


Coup de Grâce

by Willowbarb



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:44:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowbarb/pseuds/Willowbarb
Summary: Her family had taught Arya Stark that the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. They were wrong...





	Coup de Grâce

Arya Stark had delighted in archery as a small child, and she had polished her skills in the years which followed, so as she stood, looking down from her position on the battlements of Winterfell, and saw a wight just about to slaughter Sandor Clegane from behind, that wight really didn’t stand a chance; her arrow took it down, and Arya smiled.

Arya hadn’t smiled very much since the old king had come to Winterfell and her world had fallen to pieces, bit by bit, around her. 

Looking back on it, the time she had spent with Sandor Clegane, when he had still been the Hound, had changed her in ways she still did not completely understand; for all his snarling he had taught her, and guarded her, and in the end had been willing to die to protect her from someone carrying a Lannister sword, despite the long years of service those of House of Clegane had given to the House of Lannister. That was no small thing. 

And when, following that fight with the woman who had named herself Brienne of Tarth, he had begged Arya for the mercy of the coup de grâce, she could not give it. She had tried many times to persuade herself that this was her revenge, leaving him to die slowly, bit by bit, as her life had been destroyed, bit by bit, but in truth she had been unable to bring herself to end his life. She had left it in the hands of whatever gods there might be, and evidently the gods were content for the Hound to die, and Sandor Clegane to live.

She sometimes felt that the gods must have had a purpose for her as well, since she had survived when so many of her family had died, but that was only on the days when she believed that the gods still existed, if they had ever existed at all. There were not many such days. 

Sparring with Brienne of Tarth in the courtyard all those years later she had realised that it was possible for a woman to both delight in battle, and have an honourable purpose in battle; if the gods had been kinder she might have learned that lesson when she was still a child, before the old king had come to Winterfell.

Until the battle against the Night King she had never killed for others; she had killed to satisfy her own needs, not to defend those who needed someone to fight for them. The presence in Winterfell of Brienne of Tarth and Sandor Clegane, both of whom had been willing to die to protect her, was, she came to realise, part of a pattern which must be acknowledged if she were to be more than she had been. 

Her family had taught her that the lone wolf dies but the pack survives, but it was not her pack which had been willing to die to protect her. The ties of blood had failed her, and strangers had fought for her, just as thousands upon thousands of people from lands far beyond Westeros had died to give humanity the chance of living.

When the Night King had died at Arya Stark’s hand in the godswood, using the thrust to the heart that Sandor Clegane had taught her, and begged her for, she had known that Winterfell was no longer her home, and never would be again. She had honoured all of the fallen, from Westeros and beyond, as they burned on the great funeral pyres, and rode to intercept Sandor Clegane, to share the long road south together. Perhaps if an old dog could learn new tricks then there was hope for her...


End file.
